The End of an Era

 Before we decided to have kids, I told Eric "I only want kids if I can be a stay at home mom". Little did I know what that would truly entail.

But one thing I knew was that if I was gonna have kids, I wanted to raise them. I wanted to see every first, every bedtime, and wipe every tear. And he gave that to me. He worked late nights, long days, over nights, and on calls to make sure we were financially support the whole time. He didn't complain. He just laced up his boots every day and made it happen. 

I imagined that every day when he would come home, I'd meet him at the door with a clean happy baby on my hip, with my make up done and wearing clothes that I didn't sleep in the night before. This turned out to not be the case. For a while there I met him with an un-brushed messy bun from 3 days ago, an oversized t-shirt stained with vomit, a pale face from the lack of sleep and time to eat a proper meal, but I did however nail the clean happy baby part (most days). 

I poured all of me into those little goobers. Every night time cry, I got up and hushed them back to sleep. I gave up my body, my sleep, my energy, my time, my hobbies, my sanity, my job, my alone time, my everything to be their mom. And guess what, I'd do it again. Albeit, perhaps a little differently (maybe ask for a little more help) but again. 

We didn't have much outside help with raising our babies. Most family lived a ways away and we also had a few years of Covid in there to really nail the isolating part of being a stay at home mom. Our church life took a million different terms from the time I had my first kid, to the second, leaving us feeling like we were in the trenches alone. (Not you, Megan. You were always there <3)

It was hard. It was grueling. It was beautiful. It was rewarding. Every little kiss and tear seemed tangled up in a mess of emotions, from both them and myself. I learned some big lessons. Namely, if I want my kids to be "x", I have to go first. If I wanted calm kids, I had to be calm. If I wanted optimistic kids, I had to be optimistic. They were sucking (literally) everything from me, and learning from everything I was. It was a long path, but oh so very worth it.

Which brings me to now. My kids are 7 & 8. Some days they feel like they are there completely own independent person, but one big gust of emotion or tough day at school, and I'm reminded how much they still need me. But not like they used to. And I'll be honest, this transition is an interesting one. I rediscovering who I am without them (always) right beside me. I have some time to hear my own thoughts once again. Turns out, almost 9 years of parenting has changed me big time.  All those years of sacrificing myself were just as tricky to navigate as now having to find myself again. 

I say all this to say, I'm done. I am closing the chapter on being a full time stay at home mom. I ran a good race, I have finished the course. I know I'm extremely privileged to have had the opportunity, and I don't take it lightly. But it was hard. 

All those years have left me with two of the most beautiful human beings I have every known. They are my world and I am the luckiest girl in the world that they call me "mom". 

I decided to write a post on this for a few reasons. 1. My memory is crap and I want to remember these thoughts. 2. I have an immense amount of guilt going back to work, and I tried searching for words of wisdom from other moms who made the decision to go back to work, and there isn't much. I thought perhaps some one may come across these and feel a little less alone in the struggle - the struggle of young motherhood, the struggle of social isolation, the struggle of loss of self identity, the struggle of guilt, the struggle of not enjoying being home all the time.

Next week I'm easing into my new position for August, then jumping in full time in September when my kids are back to school. This is my last week of complete "freedom" as a stay at home mom. I left this week wide open, so I could just sit with the space of knowing this is the end    of an era. 

29 Things I've Learned in 29 Years

Tomorrow I turn 30. 

Yikes. 

Ain't no thing. Really. I've heard 30's are prime time; so I'm embracing them with my arms and heart wide open. 

The 20's were bitter sweet. Learning how to be married and live with a boy to having 2 whole humans growing inside of me, moving, renovations, traveling, jobs, all the things! It's a lot of highs and lows, and a whole lot of learning. 

However those tough tough times taught me lots of things, so did the good ones. I thought on the eve of the big three oh, I would summarize them for you. 

Get ready for wisdom.

1. Just because you CAN lift it, doesn't mean you should. Save your back; you're going to have it forever. 

2. Glasses and children are not a great combo. Get laser eye surgery before having kids. 

3. Hair has a way of not growing where you would like it, and growing where you don't. Deal with it. 

4. Everyone has a story. Listen long enough to want to pray for them rather than punch them in the throat.

5. Even good things should be done in moderation. Too much of a good thing, makes that good thing not a good thing. Kapeesh?

6. Friendships are priceless. If you have a good friend, don't take it for granted. If you have more than 1 count yourself the richest person alive. 

7. Everything everyone knows, they learned. You can learn it too. 

8. Invest your money. You can't make it fast enough for the government not to ruin it for you. Grow it yourself. 

9. Make your home beautiful! You're going to spend a lot of time there so make it a place you enjoy. 

10. Children are both the worst and the best. 'Nuff said.

11. Have kids if you want, don't have them if you don't want. They are a lifelong choice, don't let anyone pressure you into it. 

12. If something is bothering you, say something. Holding it in turns you into one grumpy Gus. 

13. Only buy used cars. Brand new cars are overrated. 

14. Honor your parents. Speak highly of them. Show them they matter. 

15. Learn how to pee in nature. It makes hiking and drinking water less stressful. 

16. Don't be afraid to ask for help. People aren't mind readers. 

17. Say Please and Thank you often. 

18. Trust your gut. If something feels off, it probably is. 

19. Like your body. Standards constantly change; peoples opinions change; be constant in appreciating yourself. 

20. Dry shampoo is King. Just use real shampoo twice next time you wash your hair. 

21. Always check if there's toilet paper when using a public washroom. 

22. Don't betray your younger self. You made the best decisions you could at the time. 

23. Listen like everyone can teach you something. Because they probably can. 

24. Drink lots of water. And get sun. You are basically a plant. 

25. Don't give up on your passions. Age is just a number. You are never too late. 

26. Your thoughts become you. Think wisely. 

27. Overalls will always be cool. 

28. Use laundry detergent to wash your floors. 

and finally...

29. Relax. No one else knows what they're doing either. 

Alright, 30...

Teach me more. 

Struggling

I feel like doubtful Thomas this Easter.

If you don't know who that is, let me fill you in. He was on of Jesus' 12 disciples. Meaning he spent years walking side by side with Jesus, seeing miracle after miracle, hearing the prophet's teachings, and being known as a guy in the inner circle of this miracle working Jewish son of a carpenter.
When Jesus rose from the dead and appeared to the disciples, Thomas wasn't among them initially. When all his buddy's told him that Jesus had risen and appeared to them alive and well, he simply did not believe it. Jesus then made a special appearance just for Thomas. (John 20:26-28)

I feel ya Thomas.

For those who don't know me, I've been a Christian pretty much my whole life. I've seen amazing things done in the name of Jesus. I've not been a "Sunday Christian" but an actively involved minister of the gospel: a preacher's daughter, a pastor's sister, a Sunday school teacher, a worship leader, and a pray-er.

Yet here I am, having doubts. So many doubts. Struggling with questions I was 1000% sure I knew the answer to. What the heck? Trust me, if that makes you concerned, imagine how concerning it is for me. I've shared these feelings with some of those who are close to me. I compared it to feeling like my entire house of faith has crumbled and I'm on my hands and knees, squinting through the dust of the demolition, trying to feel out the corners of my foundation.

Honestly, I hate it.

I liked being sure. I liked being confident in my knowledge. And maybe therein lies the problem.

I can't possibly go into every avenue of thought that I've wondered down. You'd be here all day. But just a glimpse into the minefield that was my thoughts: I thought about how my experiences with organized religion had been so full of hypocrites. Yikes. It's true though. One church fitted against the other because "that church" is allowed to wear short sleeve shirts. Like really? My mind went over so many years of different experiences, from interactions with those in positions of religious power and to those who had never stepped foot in a church. Sometimes those who had no profession of faith were a lot more pleasant. And don't act like that's not true, we all know it is. My mind raced over every possible belief system: like for real. And let's just say "is there even a God?" has found it's way to my brain. Ugh, I don't even like writing it.

But here's the thing.

I want to be authentic. Those of us who profess to be the Church can't afford to be anything but. I'm not perfect. I don't know everything. I struggle. I am struggling. And far be it from me to understand the fullness of God. And I think I was honestly getting to a point where I thought I had it figured out. What a numb-skull attitude to have.

I was a luke warm Christian. I think both God and I had had enough. And as a result, I felt like I hit rock bottom, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I felt so far from any belief or hope or faith. And in my brokenness and struggles, I said "God, how could you?" I honestly felt hopelessness.

And there is was, the moment of beauty in all the choas. I saw what life without hope and faith felt like. Me being a life long Christian, felt the feeling that so many who don't know Him felt. Like life was just life. We live, life sucks, we die. The end.

Depressed yet?

It was honestly a wake up call. How many people have I encountered who felt that hopeless feeling, and I being a religious tool didn't show one once of the Love that this Jewish son of a carpenter had taught? The only people he ragged on, was the kind of person I had become. Here I have been sitting on a Hope so profound and not showing it to anyone.

This Easter message at Church was necessary for me. I can't go into details because I've already taken up so much of your time. But in summary, it was necessary for my Pharisee like faith to die.

As much as it hurt. Just being honest.

To any of you who have read this far (really? don't you have anything better to do? ;), I'm sorry. I'm sorry for judging you. I'm sorry for thinking less of you because you didn't know as much as I thought I knew. I'm sorry for being one of the religious people that make Jesus seem not worth the jump of faith. I'm sorry for not being the Love that I should have been.

I'm still struggling. I am shooketh. I'm still shaken. I have belief, but I need help with my unbelief. I'm trying to rebuild, but this time with the right blocks. I'm trying to relearn.

But, I found Hope again.

And dear God, if I ever get to that hypocritical place again, feel free to knock me down once more. 

Hailey - Birth to 6 Months

Today I had one of those moments where you look around and just start feeling overwhelmed. But not at the Everest of laundry or the sink (or 2) full of dishes.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude. I love my life. I love my babies. And mostly, I love the man who helped me make this life and these babies.

Today marks 6 months that Baby Hailey has been in this world - and I can't believe it! Already SIX MONTHS! How? When? Why?

Anyway, here's a little monthly recap for you:

ONE MONTH

 - Sleeps about 22 hours a day

- Gaining weight like a champ (shocked the health nurse)
- Wakes up about 3 times at night, eats, and goes back to sleep

- Very chill

TWO MONTHS

 - Stays awake for about 2 hours at a time

-Sleeps well at night, gets up about 3 times, eats and goes back to sleep

- Witching hour is real! Cries from about 6pm-10pm
-Starting to smile a little 

- Cheeks for days! 

THREE MONTHS

 -Witching hour still very real! Going outside makes her happy in those times.

- Smiles, even though it's hard with those cheeks

- Poops like a champ! 

-Had needles and check up and about 12 pounds (atta girl)
- Likes to be held to nap, but now sleeps in her own crib at night

- takes about an hour to rock her to sleep at night

FOUR MONTHS

 - Bye bye witching hour - I have my happy girl back! 

- Wakes up about 2-3 times at night, but goes back to sleep within 5 minutes

- Has about 4 naps a day

- Loves to be held and see people

-Pretty quiet girly

FIVE MONTHS

 - Takes naps alone in her crib during the day

- Wakes up about 2 times a night, and goes right back to sleep after eating

-Still breastfeeding, not a fan of solids

- SMILES! All the SMILES! 

- Poops out of all her diapers! 

- Thinks her brother is a hoot! 

SIX MONTHS

- About 18 pounds (I haven't actually weighed her)

- Always rolling on her tummy

- Loves to jump in her jollly jumper

-Squeals! 

- Has the fruffiest hair. 

- Wakes up about 2 at night

- Goes to sleep in her crib by herself

- Bottom two teeth finally popped through

- Loves to giggle

All in all, these 6 months have flown by. So much has happened. So much has gone wrong in 2018, but she is the one thing that's been completely right. 

I honestly was afraid of having a girl because, let's face it, we ain't easy. And I've never been much of a girly girl to being with. But so far, I see so much of myself in her, and I feel like I know how to handle myself...sometimes.

With Wesley being such an easy baby, I thought (and was told) I was probably in for a doozy! I was probably going to pay for having it too easy! lol. But in most ways, she's been easier than Wesley. A lot of that probably has to do with the fact that I know some things now, and don't have to question every little thing. 

My approach with parenting has been very relaxed so far, which is surprising because I thought I would be much more uptight. But I let the kids teach me how to be a good mom, rather than a book. That doesn't mean, that works for everyone, but it works amazingly for me! Eating, sleeping, playing, cuddling, repeat. We all have good routines. Kids go to bed at 8pm everynight (had to work on that since Hailey was going to bed at 11pm when she was 3 months), which leaves a few hours to spend with Eric - making us better partners and parents. 

I know I'm gonna want more kids, but I truly am content with these two babies of mine. 

They are my perfect. 

Baby Hailey

I did it again.

I successfully made another human.

This is kind of a big deal because it's been my greatest life accomplishment so far. In all the amazing things I've been able to experience in my life, my family has been my favorite.

This is the story of how little Hailey made her way into the world.

When I was about 32 weeks pregnant, the Doctor asked me if had made a decision about either wanting to have another c-section, or try to give birth. I was totally on the fence. I could see the pros and cons to both and those are the toughest decisions. I kept weighing my options as the weeks went on.

At the same time, the Doctor was a little concerned about how big the baby was getting. This lead to a few ultrasounds, and blood sugar testing. Each ultrasound showed that she was bigger than she was "suppose to be", however I passed the two blood sugar tests. Apparently high blood sugar levels can make the baby grow extra big. I ended up having to test my blood sugars at home 4 times a day, like a diabetic. All was well, but the baby was still gonna be big.

This all led to the decision that it would be better for me to have a c-section, as my body was unable to get out Wesley out, and it looked like this baby would be even bigger. So, a c-section was scheduled for June 12th. I met with the surgeon, discussed what I needed to do to prepare for the surgery, and then eagerly awaited the day.

On the evening of June 9th, I started to sense something may be happening. The whole evening was spent with these random waves of pain. At this point in my pregnancy, I was almost in constant pain because of how gigantic my belly was. I tossed the idea back and forth of whether or not to go to the hospital, as it may be nothing.

Around 10pm, I figured it's better to be safe than sorry... and I didn't think I could sleep with the pain anyway. So off we went to the hospital, leaving Wesley with my parents at home.

When we got to the hospital, who should be standing right at the baby ward desk? My Doctor. He looked at me wobbling in and asked "Are you in labour?" To which I really didn't have an answer.

He did the monitoring and checking, and sure enough, she was coming.

At this point, I could have tried to labour, or just stick with the c-section. As luck would have it, the c-section team was on their way to do another c-section (which was also why my Doctor was already there too). I had already mentally accepted that I was going to have a c-section, so I said "let's slice me open".

From there things went pretty quickly, I was prepped for surgery and rolled into the OR. I was numb but very much awake. The team came in and pushed and pulled and all sorts of sensations, until I heard a little cry. The Doctor popped around from the curtain dividing me from my open abdomen, holding the fattest, purplest little baby.

She was plump and perfect.

Eric got to hold her while they stitched me up. I stared at her chubby little face with such happiness. I was taken to recovery and soon thereafter, Eric brought her to me. Of course recovery was filled with the violent shivers, like I had the first time, and I drifted to sleep a few times, but all in all, I recovered well.

We spent the next 3 days in the hospital, recovering and bonding. Recovery from a c-section is not the easiest thing, but as it turns out, it was the right call. The Doctor said that he could tell from the way things were looking, just the short time I was in labour, that my body was having trouble getting her out. Plus, they were able to repair a hernia that had occurred towards the end of the pregnancy from how stretched out my stomach got.

Because of her size, they tested her blood sugar levels as well, eventually they leveled out which allowed us to go home.

Since being home, Hailey gained all her weight back, and actually shocked the public health nurses how quickly she bounced back, since she sleeps most of the day and only nurses for about 6 minutes when she does wake up.

Wesley has accepted that their is another little human taking our attention and time, and has adjusted well. He even gives his little sister kisses, and puts the dirty diapers in the garbage for me. :)

I am feeling good, and getting better everyday! Eric has been the best: doing all of the work around the house, plus taking care of all three of us.

I'm in love with my little family and doing my best to enjoy every moment!

The Storm

June of last year looked so different.

At exactly this time in 2017, we had saved enough money to buy a second house to renovate as an investment property, I had settled into the routine of being a stay at home mom, and I felt like I had a good handle on things.

Little did I know that the next 12 months would be the hardest of my life.

To save you from the longest post ever, I'll sum up some things.

June of 2017 thrust me into a position of leadership and learning that I never expected: I became a leader of our church. For those who have never lead in such a position will never fully understand the gravity of that statement. It came with so many tears and uncertainty.

In the summer of 2017 I spent a large portion of my time and energy learning how to be a construction site manager. Yes, you heard me right. I suddenly found myself overseeing our church project of making a place for ourselves. To say this was stressful is an understatement. I learned so many things the hard way.

Let me remind you that during this time, we were paying two mortgages and had an empty house waiting to be fixed which my parents were going to move into as a joint investment.

Then came September ... which brought a pregnancy.

Pregnancy for me is like a judge sentencing me to 9 months of torture. I know so many have it worse, and many wish they could experience it. But that doesn't stop the fact that I'm sick for most of it.

This fact made the winter long and hard, combined with the fact that Winter of 2017/2018 was, in fact, long and hard.

With a baby on the way, and a steady hand on church leadership, the plan was to focus our attention onto that empty house.

Or so we thought.

Come New Year's 2018 - Eric literally tore his muscle off. He lifted an item at work and tore the bicep tendon off the bone. This injury required surgery and months of physiotherapy. Needless to say this threw a wrench in the plans yet again.

When finally cleared for light duty in May of 2018, I had become so gigantically pregnant that I was of no use to him on the construction front. He spent his time working on the very few things he could do without ruining his arm for good.

That brings us to June of 2018. After such a long and trying time, a ray of sunshine came into our world on June 10th. Little did we know how  much love we had in our hearts to give - that after such storms comes a rainbow.

And because God has a sense of humor, he placed a little cherry on top, just to make sure I got the picture and maybe learnt the lesson.

Last night, we literally faced a storm unlike anything I have ever experienced. It started as something kind of beautiful and exciting but suddenly turned into something terrifying and overhwhelming. As it raged on, and we stared out the window watching things get destroyed, I realized there was nothing I could do. All of it was in the hands of the creator.

This evening we walked around looking at the damage, and I couldn't help but thank God that he's still God in the storms.

Wesley - 7 to 12 Months

Seven Months

Can sit on his own
Tips over sometimes
Loves to cuddle and gab
Always smiling, giggling, and shaking his head
Holds his own bottle
Loves seeing his own reflection
Wakes up about 2 times a night
Loves his baby food

Eight Months

 Learning how to interact with objects

Figured out how to roll efficiently ;)

Actually enjoys being on his tummy

Eats a little bit of finger foods

Sings himself to sleep in the car

Laughs at the puppy

Goes to bed around 8pm; only wakes up once

Nine Months

Can stand while holding on to something

Getting very curious about everything

Knows how to open cupboards

Kind of shuffles on his bum sometimes

Very sensitive to the word no

Started sleeping right through the night (on mama's birthday)

Two little teeth poked through (bottom middle)

Ten Months

Can pull himself to standing 

Loves to watch the world from the front window

Says "dada" a lot!

Started rejecting his soother except for night

Army crawls a little bit

Loves walking in his walker from Auntie Ria

Prefers just playing with one toy

More teeth coming; can be pretty fussy

Started clapping

Eleven Months

Realized how to crawl in one day

Two more teeth ontop

Loves to walk while holding onto fingers

Usually standing in his crib when I go get him

Quite content to play alone

Pretty attached to mama

Figured out how to climb stairs

Three more teeth

One Year

Eight teeth total

Grabs my fingers and walks me to the back door

LOVES to be outside! 

Appetite for life and food!

Walks around the house with his push walker

Loves to give wide open mouth kisses

Likes to watch people

Lights up when he sees mama and dada

Flexes his muscles around Gamma and Gampa

My big boy is a year already! Eeeesh! Honestly that went by so fast. I remember getting clothes that were for 6 months, 9 months, or a year, and thinking "he won't need those for a long time". But it happened over night!

Although we're in the stage of learning, which often results in a lot more bumps and tears, his zest for life is infectious! He's always doing something! But he still is a cuddle bug sometimes, and can sit still for a good amount of time. 

Here's to many many more years!!!

But Why?

Sometimes, like a child, I want to whine. "Whyyyyy?" You know the sound.

Like where it's all nasal, in combination with the already runny nose, and you think for just a split second, "why do people reproduce?"

And after the small one asks it about a million times, you end up saying "Just because". Because sometimes there really isn't an explanation to their inquiry. Sometimes we ask questions where God just wants us to listen and learn.

I do that. I turn my face up to the great heavens and say "God, whyyyy?" Maybe stomp a foot or both.

"I don't get it" *use your inner whiny child voice*

Truth is, sometimes, it's just because. We aren't meant to fully understand everything all the time.

I worked at a job for about a year, where the boss wasn't Mother Teresa. Maybe if Mother Teresa had bi-polar and hated everyone. But in the one year at that job, where I wanted to scream at her face, I learned things. I actually learned more in that one year of extreme frustrations, then all my smooth sailing jobs.

Among many practical skills I now find very helpful, I really had to learn to hold my tongue under severe scrutiny and unfairness. ⟸ Probably the hardest lesson of all for me.

The whole time, I didn't get it. Why? It blew chunks.

Also, that long lonely season of waiting................................................

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Seeeee?  You didn't like that, right?!?! I didn't like it either. I went through a long time where I felt "board". A little bit like I could be doing more. I felt like I had been benched by the coach. Granted I've never played any sports, as my curvy curves/rolls can testify, but I imagine thats what it feels like. Just sitting there, not helping.

Turns out, I needed that season of down time. Because there was something big and a tad overwhelming. Even though I didn't get it back then, I needed that season of underwhelming. It balanced out the whelming. Capiche?

In all of these things, I was learning the why. My situations weren't necessarily changing that drastically, but I was. My understanding. My patience. My knowledge. My gratefulness.

And truth is, you only learn those through some tough life lessons.

A super awesome lady in my life (shout out to Megs) suggested I listen to a sermon entitled, It had to Happen by Steven Furtick. So while I was sitting on her kiddos, I also sat on her chair and watched her TV. I assumed that was the deal with babysitting ;)

The sermon talked about situations where you kind of cause you're own pain. Like "I probably could have handled that better". Just like I didn't have to work at a job where I was belittled, or spend a few months not doing anything productive. But truth is, God actually used my failures or the things I didn't fully understand.

I think it's fitting that God refers to himself as our Father. In truth, I act like a whiny unlearned ungrateful child. "God, whhyyyyy"

Just because.

Because soon... you'll understand.





A calm sea never a skilled sailor made. ~Someone

Time to Give Up

Not gonna lie.

These last few days were butt awful.

I could have just done without them. I felt no purpose in them. They were lame and I didn't need it.

Not one thing in particular, just an accumulation of stinky pathetic rotten things. An overdue to-do list. Dirty floors that my bare feet didn't want to touch. No clothes because the mountain of laundry had made it's own postal code. Unpleasant conversations. Stress. But...

Mostly my attitude.

I was not nose blind to the stench of my own sourness. Even though I tried my best to deflect the reason onto my rough circumstances. The truth was, I have had worse circumstances.

But something in my attitude was fouler than the kitchen garbage can after a few of Wesley's explosive diapers.

I got to the point where I just "couldn't even". I didn't want to do anything except maybe eat a whole bowl of cookie dough while watching The Office series all over again.

Then I took it to God in prayer.

Honestly I don't know how I would handle life without the maker of it. It's like talking to Steve Jobs when you have a problem with your Apple product, and let's face it, Apple has a lot of issues. ;)

Something about knowing I could visit the cross in the middle of my chaos without judgement, set my heart and mind at peace. Suddenly things aren't that bad. I refocused.

I didn't stare that the literal mess around me - but the vision ahead of me. The love over me. The angel army beside me.

Is life tough for you too? I bet it can be sometimes because you're human. And it's ok to be. Just don't wallow in the misery. Take it to Jesus with a little praise!

P.S. I saw a news article today of a public figure who took his life. I wonder what would of happened if he knew he didn't need to bare is burdens alone.

I've changed my mind about Marriage

Fortunately and unfortunately there exists a video of me when I was about 14 or 15, sitting in a chair at my friend's house, staring directly into the camera and telling the world that I would never get married. While everyone around me was laughing and telling me that I'd change my mind one day, in that moment...

I meant it.

I hated marriage. To me it was a painful torturous tradition that made my brothers move out and my parents fight.

When one of my brothers was about to get married, I was heart broken. Both of them sat me down and told me that this was a good thing. But I was a teenager, I knew everything, like really, I did. And I knew that this was a bad idea. Stupid love drunk kids.

The truth is I had good reason to hate marriage. I honestly didn't have a great example of what it was suppose to be. Not to throw shade at people who were married at this time in my life, but I didn't have one example that seemed remotely attractive to me. Not one. Most didn't seem to even like their spouse, and at best they seemed indifferent to whether or not their spouse was in the same room as them, and some seemed to treat their spouse like a glorified babysitter.

I know for the most part people were joking about spouses; maybe the "ol' ball and chain" or saying things like "the dishwasher" while pointing at their wife behind her back. But hearing those kinds of jokes only reinforced my already negative view of marriage. And especially since I loathe doing dishes, that was not going to be my life title.

It didn't help, either, that I lived in a little bubble. Sure I had my family and church, but beyond that, I didn't know much of the world. So I didn't see all the good and helpful things that marriage could bring. And since my limited TV watching was usually the classy Phil McGraw (You can't change what you don't acknowledge. ~Dr.Phil) I usually only saw the bad and sad.

On the blue moon occasions when I saw a little ray of marital goodness, it was short lived. Since I am a self proclaimed genius, I decided that it was better to be alone. If it was good enough for Paul the Apostle, it was good enough for me.

Once I grew up a little, and started my own adventures of life on my own, I realized life is more fun with someone. I started to realize "Oh this is why people get married, they get a little desperate, and then they get trapped." Ahhhh, yes. I had figured it out. Marriage was a sign of desperation.

Then I met that guy, Eric. Something about him made me want to hold his hand. The beauty of the situation was that I wasn't lonely. I was perfectly happy with my life. I wasn't even close to desperate. He just made me want to sit next to him. Be by his side.

Most people don't know, but Eric and I dated for a month (May-June 2011) and got married three months later (July-Sept 2011). Most people were probably screaming "pump the breaks" but I was now that stupid love drunk kid.

I'd somehow, somewhere, changed my mind about marriage.

I probably have about a million things I could address at this point in this post that may be running through your mind: "that's how they all start", "that's too fast", "most marriages start that way", "that's the honeymoon stage", "that will wear off", "love is blind, marriage is an eye-opener". Since I have life responsibilities, Yeah, I'm looking at you laundry, I will leave you with this.

It's been almost six years of marriage, and without a word of exaggeration: it has only gotten sweeter. He still makes me smile and laugh till I snort. He gives me butterflies when he walks through the door after work. Watching him play with our baby makes me feel like I may burst with all the teary emotions. Picking up his socks makes me chuckle, not get angry.

But all of that isn't on accident. We make it happen. Everyday. That's what marriage is. In the words of God, "it is good".

So I've changed my mind: marriage is beautifully designed by the master creator, to be enjoyed and celebrated. It's not our anniversary, or his birthday, or valentine's day, it's just another "everyday" but I chose to love him more than I did yesterday.

Side note: if you read this and it made you happy: yay, let's be happy together. If this post made you mad: I'm sorry, that wasn't my intention, see if a doctor can remove the stick up your butt. If you're single and this post made you jealous, pray for your future marriage. But most importantly, if you're married and this post made you envious, get help. Whatever it takes me make your marriage stronger and better, DO IT! The price of counselling, marriage guide books, or date nights, is nothing compared to the reward of a healthy marriage. I don't have the answers, but God does. My advice is make him the center of your marriage and it cannot fail.

P.S. Eric, if you're reading this, I like your face. I hope I can make you smile as much as this meme always does.

Super Honesty Time

This post is kind of embarrassing.

But it's something quite a few people deal with and it sucks.

If someone had found a solution for this problem and not told me about it I would want to smack them. So since I don't want anyone to smack me, I'm going to share what I've discovered.

My problem started back in high school.

I would be sitting in class, temperature of the room was normal, I wasn't necessarily nervous (maybe if I had a test or presentation coming up) but for the most part I felt fine. But for some stupid reason my armpits felt the need to leak.

Why?

Who knows. Not me. It had me so frustrated. I would leave class to go air dry my shirt in the bathroom because of the river that had sprung forth.

I tried everything. The crystals, au natrual, clinical strength deodorant, even men's. But it wasn't that my arm pits were smelly, just wet. All the time. Wet.

Fast-forward to my mid-twenties. I still struggled with it. Every shirt I own is stained. And usually within three wears. Which is pathetic. I don't like buying clothes because I know they are going to be ruined in a month. Super lame. Right?

I know all the little tricks to try and remove pit stains or try to prevent them. I've tried walking with Kleenex under my arms. It's not as fun as it sounds.

While I was pregnant I had had enough. All my precious maternity shirts were ruined. I asked my doctor - he recommended Botox. And while I'd love to be that cool, I'm not that rich. So I searched and searched and prayed. Finally I found something. Now since this product isn't recommended while pregnant or breastfeeding, I had to wait. But I finally tried it.

My life has forever been changed.

It's been two days and not a drop of sweat. I don't care if that's not natural, because what's even more unnatural is not lifting my arms up... ever.

Here's the deal, I was going to post a link to the product for everyone to enjoy, but since I had the courage to make an entire post about my sweaty armpits, if you want to know the product... you need to comment.

Yeah, I'm mean like that.

I don't sell it. I'm not making money off of it in anyway. I'm not trying to sucker you into messaging me and then I try to make you join my army of non-sweaty pitted people. I just want to know that there's other people out there who may have struggled or are struggling too. So that's my catch. You have to come forward with your sweaty arm raised and say "I want help". Got it?

It's a money back guarantee product and it even works on other areas of the body.

So don't delay. Did I mention it's only $14.95 right now!?!?

My Main Man Moses

When I was an adolescent, my family owned this movie.
Now, Moses is my favorite bible character of all time. He's just an average dude, kind of pampered in Pharaoh's house. Then suddenly he finds out he's adopted (a whoa moment for anyone), plus a slave by birth. That's like going from being Prince Harry to the man who scrubs his toilets. He's my favorite for many reasons, but it really boils down to the fact that he inspires me. I think we forget sometimes that the people in the bible were in fact real people.  He was just a scared murderer who led millions. NBD.

In this movie, there is a scene that will stick with me forever. Every time it came on I remember this feeling hitting my gut, because, frankly, I hated it. It tore my heart apart even at my young age. It was gory, it was terrifying, but, most importantly, it was real. It really happened. (Exodus 32)

In this scene, Moses has been on Mt. Sinai getting the first set of ten commandments. Yes there were two sets. The Lord tells him to get his tushy down the mountain because the people be acting a fool. They're neked! Worshiping an idol! Dancing around like it's a Rihanna concert! So Moses, being the stand up leader that he is, begs God to have mercy on them. Even though they are probably causing Moses sleepless nights, maybe some gray hair, he still prays that God will show mercy to his people. But nay nay, God has had enough. Moses descends the mountain, and sees what they have done, and being led by his own brother Aaron, of all things.

Moses shatters the ten commandments, and boldly asks "Who is on the Lord's side? Come stand with me". Guess what? Not everybody did.

These are the people who saw the Red Sea part when Moses put his staff in the water. These are the people that walked through on dry ground following in his footsteps! These are the people that once praised Yahweh for delivering them out of Egypt. These are the people who had fresh manna from heaven, every morning! But that didn't stop them from rejecting Moses' offer.

That was the moment in the movie where my heart sank. Division. A line drawn.

Exodus 32:27 - Moses told them, “This is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: Each of you, take your swords and go back and forth from one end of the camp to the other. Kill everyone—even your brothers, friends, and neighbors.”

Heavy stuff.

Movies were a family affair in our household. I remember looking at my brothers who were probably taking up too much room on the couch, and as much as I wanted to trip them or smack them sometimes, I never wanted to kill them. They were MY idiot brothers. But that didn't matter in that scene. Right then and there; 3,000 people were killed. Killed by people who were family, friends, and neighbors. 

The cinematographer slowly zoomed in on Moses' face (well, Ben Kingsley's face), as he watched the horror unfold before his eyes. These were the exact people he had just plead with God to save, the very same people he led out of Egypt. Maybe they were the type of people who opposed him on every decision he made, maybe they were the type of people who doubted if he really heard from Yahweh, maybe they thought he was a horrible leader. 

Regardless, they were people. 

People Moses loved. People he prayed for. People he led. 

Now if any of you have watched a movie with my parents you would know this would be the point in the movie where my mom would like out a weepy shaky sob, and my dad may start speaking in tongues. Yep, movie night at the Froese residence was very entertaining! But even in my childish state, I would be crying too. It hurt to see hurt. It pained me to see pain. 

I know we don't live in a Moses type of world anymore; no one is gonna be killed for making the wrong choice. But I pray I never find myself on the wrong side of a life altering decision. Even Aaron, the brother who led the people in such a horrific decision, stands with Moses. It's never too late to make the right choice. 

"Who is on the Lord's side? Come stand with me."

Wesley - Birth to 6 Months

Little Bear is 6 months old! Yikes, they are not lying when they say it goes by fast. Every morning when I go to his crib, I swear he's grown another inch. Every day there's something new he's learning something new and super cute.

One Month

Loves the color red

Stares at lamps

Eats like a champ

Sleeps in a bassinet in Mom and Dad's room

Around 9 pounds

Sleeps in 2-3 hour stretches

Two Months

Starting to smile when provoked :)

Much more alert

Can hold up his head on his own

Sleeps in his own room

Feeds every 5-7 hours at night

Around 10 pounds

Three Months

Eats every 2-3 hours

Smiles when smiled at

Can hold head stable

Looks at noises

Sleeps 4-5 hours at a time

Around 13 pounds

Four Months

Super smiley

Giggles when playing

Teething has been ongoing for a few weeks

Can grab objects well

Likes watching the puppy

Very empathetic (cries when he hears others cry)

Around 15 pounds

Five Months

Loves the dropping game

Teething is really kicking in

He's found his vocal cords

Loves watching mommy in the kitchen

Sleeps 3-4 hours a time at night

Starting big boy food - hates bananas

Rolled over once
Jumping is his favorite

Around 18 pounds

Six Months

Loves seeing himself in the mirror or on camera

Getting used to tummy time

Loves to eat baby food - mostly berries

Wakes up 4-5 hours at night

A little bashful

Smiles at most everyone

Can sit on his own for a short while

Notices when Daddy's not home
Smiles even when he's crying

Around 26 inches long

Around 20 pounds

He's been consistently going to bed at 7:30 or 8 and sleeping until 7am. The longest he's been up at night was one hour, but that was right in the beginning and probably was because I didn't know what I was doing. :) Thankfully I haven't been too sleep deprived and he's always a happy chipper baby in the morning, so that makes every day much more enjoyable. I can't even begin to describe how he makes me smile. 

Baby Wesley

I did it. I'm a mom.

Although when people refer to me as a mother, I doubt them. And their sanity!

As much as I'm not much of a reader of general birth stories, I thought I would share mine. Mostly because I'm starting to forget it and as much as I want to, I don't.

It all began....hold on... I'm gonna get myself some refreshments before I begin.

Ok, I got my chips and iced tea.

The morning of August 19th, I woke at 5:30ish to a little surprise. I thought perhaps my water broke, but it wasn't much so I kind of ignored it since I knew I had a doc appointment at 11 that very day. Eric got up to go to work, at which point I considered telling him to stay home because I thought something might be happening, but I was too relaxed to tell him because for the first time in a few weeks I wasn't in constant back pain for the extra 45 pounds I gained.

When I got to my doctor, I told him that I thought my water may have broken, he checked and sure enough, it had. At which point he consulted another doctor about whether or not to induce me as I hadn't experienced any contractions. He then sent me off to Boundary Trails Health Centre to start the induction process.

I called Eric and made my way to the land of needles and bandages. I got into my room and soon after Eric arrived. They got me all hooked up to the IV, after a few tries (oww much?) and started the Oxytocin around noon.  We sat and watched The Office on the laptop while they kept upping the dosage every half an hour. They were monitoring my contractions, but I wasn't feeling a thing (hallelujah). Eventually, around 5 or 6pm, I started to feel a hint of something. As I had already spoken to my doctor about drugs, he informed me that if I wanted drugs to get them as soon as possible as being induced is more painful than natural. With that in mind, I asked for the epidural, not that I was in much pain but I wanted to get it before things got bad. They checked but I was only 1cm dilated so they said "nay nay".

After been checked any feeling during contractions went away. This is where my memory becomes I little hazy. I believe this is when they got my up to start walking around. It sucked. For those of you who saw how gigantic I got while pregnant, standing for more than 5 minutes felt like death. So walking with an IV and super awesome hospital attire wasn't appealing. But I put on my fluffy slippers and slippered my way around the halls. We were literally the only couple having a baby that night, so I owned those halls and the nurses (respectfully).

My parents arrived around 7ish so I went back to my room to sit and talk. Whilst talking with them, little baby boy kicked with the force of a thousand waterfalls, which in turn caused my water to gush with the force of a billion waterfalls. Literally! The nurses came in and said "whoa, yeah, ummm.... that's a lot of water". Three bed pads later, it had slowed down. Also side note: this was not a gentle process; the nurses really plunged.

At that point, all pain became known to me. I had been contracting for most of the day so my contractions were lasting two minutes, every two minutes. So I went from feeling nothing, laughing and chatting to "oh Lord Jesus". Since being checked the last time sort of slowed down the process, I endured the pain for a while without being checked. Eventually I asked for the epidural again, at which point they checked again, and I was 4, almost 5cm. They called the on call Doctor and she graciously said I could have the epidural (apparently she doesn't say yes a lot).

The epidural was amazing. I've always been pro-drug when it comes to birth, as I don't enjoy being in pain when I don't have to be. They ran an ice cube up and down both sides of my body, and I couldn't feel a thing! I'm thinking I may just get an epidural for the entirety of our harsh winter months. It had been a long day, so soon after I got the meds I went to bed (around 11). I slept so good. I mean, so good!

At 6:30am I was awoken to the word "wake up girl, you're going for a c-section". I woke up slightly confused and a little startled, I turned to Eric who looked just as tired as I felt. They hooked up all their lovely tubes, and I must say catheters are the bomb. After months of having to get up to go pee at least 3 times a night, not having to get up at all was a welcomed relief. Eric got the iconic blue garb get up, which I wish I would have gotten a picture of, but I had other things on my mind. Like my breath. As a lover of fresh breath, and a diligent tooth-brusher, I didn't want to go into surgery without the hint of mint on my words. So I ate an icebreaker. Bad choice.

Off I went, to the OR. As they were pushing me through the halls, it began to sink in. I was about to have a baby, and I was also about to be cut the heck open. As they got my into the frigid OR room, I started shivering. And when I say shivering, I don't mean a tiny little quiver. I was full on shaking, of course just my upper torso and arms because the rest of me was just a slab of meat. The drug man who stands by your head in the OR told me that it's perfectly normal and that was the way my body was trying to generate heat for the rest of my lazy body.

They began to tie down my arms, when that darned icebreaker came back to visit. I became so incredibly nauseous. I heaved and heaved and heaved, all the while my upper body was convulsing uncontrollably. It was beautiful. Eric came in, and I quickly informed him through the shaking and heaving that "this is normal". Eventually the drug man just untied my arm so I could hold my own vomit suction tube (he didn't seem to be enjoying that responsibility) and told me "don't touch your stomach".

Then, at 7:26am on August 20, I heard it. A little big cry. I thought "who let a baby in here?". I think that may have been the drugs talking, until I realized.... that's mine.

Eric went off to see our hefty baby and quickly brought him over to me. I turned and looked at his sweet little face, and I remember thinking "awwww, he normal!" and then promptly fell asleep. I was informed that I fell asleep approximately 7 times on the OR table. Like not in a death way, just overly tired sleepiness. I remember feeling guilty because I couldn't stay awake for the most amazing moment of my life,. I just wanted to sleep.  I don't remember much after that, but I do remember feeling my stomach after it was stitched up and being totally pumped at how flat it was.

They hoisted me away to recovery at which point I got to cuddle my new bundle. He was perfect. I was continuing to fall asleep still at this point, but every time I woke up I saw the face of my handsome husband and beautiful baby boy. If only our minds could take pictures that could be developed. Those would be worth gold!

I'm running out of chips, so I better wrap this up.

The days following were some of the hardest/best of my life. Eric got sick and had to go home for night, Wesley had jaundice, so he got to hang out in a light bathing machine for a few days, and on top of feeling like I may never walk again, my emotions were all over the place. Looking back, it was rough, but so worth it.

Right now, little Wesley is softly snoring as he's napping in his swing. Just to see his little face, I'd do it all again.

Pretty Floral Bonnet

Growing up I wore a skirt all the time... always....except when I showered or went skiing (I got to wear snow pants, which was still kind of a no-no).  As a girl who grew up in a strict sect most of my life, pants were like the forbidden fruit; they might kill you. :) Pants were mans clothing. You couldn't look like a girl while wearing pants, right?. And while I spent most of my life wearing a skirt with a sincere heart, it became the norm to me. I wore one when I went biking, rollerblading, working, and even in gym class. Looking back, that was kind of silly. I wonder how many of my class mates got a better look than I ever intended? I don't want to think about that.

Fast forward to today, I do not wear a skirt the majority of the time.................GOOD GRAVY! SAY IT AIN'T SO LAWD! While I have absolutely NOTHING against those who still believe and practice this, I no longer choose to. Clearly,  in this era there is such a thing as woman's pants. As we all know, back in the early 1900's pants were an article of man's clothing. Go back even further, and woman who didn't wear one of those death trap cage thingies under their massive dresses were considered scandalous. What if someone saw the shape of your derriere under the 50 layers of fabric? Go back even further and men wore tunics! And the more I travel through time, the more things change.

As the time changes, so do fashions, so do trends, so does the number on my scale (ugh). Woman wear pants in 2015. Men wear skinny jeans............... I don't like it...... but it's true. What is the real problem is the reason behind your clothes or how you dress yourself. I went to churches as a kid where girls were following the rules to a T, yet they somehow still seemed scantly clad. Their collars went up to their chin, and skirts to their ankles, yet they were the first ones to try to get out of a church service, and find the group of cute boys, or pick out the tightest clothes so you could see every lump and bump anyway. I'm not saying everyone is like that, not ever saying that. But from what I saw, wearing exactly what you were told did nothing for your heart... so in turn I'm saying, NOT wearing what they say is acceptable does nothing for my heart either. I still love God, maybe love him a little more if that's possible.

All I saw these sort of standards and rules do, is make everyone judge everybody else: the quiet new couple that slipped into the back of the church, the granny who sat next to you who had been going to the same church for 40 years, and the sinner (which we all are) who came to church for the very first time. I used to look at someone and instantly judge how close they were to God based on the length of their hair, the clothes they wore, jewelry, facial hair, makeup, the version of their bible, the height of their high heels..... shall I go on?

Now, I don't notice these things at all! In fact it's kind of scary. I often think if I ever had to give a description to one of those police sketch artists, I wouldn't know where to begin: "Were they wearing glasses?" "Dunno" "What color was their hair?" "Dunno" "Did they have a face?" "Dunno"


This scripture right here, I've heard a million times, but only now do I get it.

1 Peter 3:3-4

3 Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel;4 But let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.